Mission Possible
by Senniug
Summary: Blaise is on a mission to get Draco someone to fu- erm, have a lovely conversation with. Rating may go up in future chapters.


**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. J.K. Rowling owns it all. So no suing, I have no money, and I have Thomas Jefferson as a lawyer. (Don't ask.)**

"Then for what reason doesn't diluted nubile man? We nibble Sir Toasty!" sang the apparently _extremely _drunk Hufflepuff skipping through the hallways. "Or diluted nubile wails! And diluted nubile outside the wildfire's penises does scrambles! How did I mitigate loosely? We don't switching me!"

Blaise suppressed a laugh; Draco simply stared in bewilderment.

"Parker demolishes yourself... I hive! If you have tropics, enchant camel-like flapdoodle," she went on, making up the words on the spot. "It's better to vaginally ream silver blossom than frame bombast!"

"Well, mate," Blaise whispered, "I think we've found someone for you to fuck."

"Don't even think about it, Zabini," Draco snarled. "I will personally cut off your precious balls."

The black wizard stepped out from behind the statue of Lachlan the Lanky and asked the girl, "How many bottles of firewhiskey have you drunk tonight?"

"Twenty-four," she said blearily, flashing him a smile. She had stopped skipping, but was still humming the melody of the insane song.

"And you haven't thrown up yet?" asked Blaise, whose personal record stood at eighteen.

"Nope," she said. She gestured to her stomach and added, "Very pungent electromagnet."

"Right," he said, then pushed on to the point, "Would you like to fuck my friend who is hiding behind that statue?"

"I would _love_ to have Christmas with steak friend," she giggled while swaying dangerously.

"Can you at least find someone who can still speak lucid English?" asked a very irritated Draco.

"Steak friend!" squealed the girl, crushing Draco in an embrace. "Did you ferry duchess?"

"No," said Draco slowly, "But there's another steak friend over there who did."

"Where can I find said redneck hyacinth?" she asked him, peering behind the statue.

"Down the hallway, to the left," Blaise supplied, laughing borderline hysterically.

The Hufflepuff set off down the hallway, singing, "Why don't I snag your enough sports and the probe's unity? The more they forged, the more they erodes them. Never ride unless you can't split. You will jive... A lava's sooner did support them."

"Is she in our year?" Blaise asked, staring at the girl's back as she skipped away.

"Yes," Draco answered while rubbing his temples. The girl's gibberish had taken a toll on his cognitive processes. "I believe her name is Gina Cahill. She's Irish."

"I think I need to pay her a visit when she can speak English again," he smiled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Merlin," groaned Draco, "This mad idea is bad enough without you informing me about your future sex life."

Blaise was already strutting down the hallway in the direction the girl had come from. Draco had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculously feminine way he swung his hips, then mentally kicked himself in the head for looking anywhere near his friend's arse.

"Where are you going?" he called after Blaise.

"To wherever that girl came from," explained Blaise. "There are most likely several girls there who are drunk enough to get in bed with you."

"Oh, so no sober person would fuck me, is what you're saying here?" asked Draco with feigned anger.

"No, what I'm saying is that no mentally sound sober person would fuck you," answered Blaise cheekily.

"Touché, mate," he answered with a laugh, "Touché."

As they rounded the corner, party sounds greeted their ears. Yelling and laughing could be heard, along with the smash of a broken bottle. To the great pleasure of Blaise, most of the voices were feminine.

Draco stopped walking about five meters away from the heavy wooden door. "Can I just go back to the common room and sleep."

"Well," answered Blaise, also stopping, "You'll be going back there in a minute, but I don't think you'll be sleeping."

"You're helpless, you know that?" he groaned. When they had reached the door, none other than their fellow Slytherin Theodore Nott stuck his head out and demanded a password.

"Diluted nubile," Blaise said with a straight face.

"How'd you know that?" asked the weedy loner. "Oh wait, you probably fucked it out of someone."

"You got it Theo," Blaise winked. He pushed past the boy and Draco followed, attempting to look bored.

Within the crowded, couch-filled beat sat about two dozen girls, from all houses, along with Miles Bletchley and Ryan Urquhart, two Slytherin Quidditch players.

Blaise was off almost immediately, talking to the blonde, very busty Mandy Brocklehurst, whom he was most likely attempting to get into bed. Conversely, Draco lingered by the door. Or at least he was until Sarah Fawcett pulled him over to a corner. She had pink patches high on her cheeks and was swaying slightly.

"So, Drakeypoo," she giggled as plonked him down on the couch. "Hermy and I were just talking about you."

"Hermy?" asked Draco suspiciously.

"Hermione, silly!" the Ravenclaw nearly yelled. "She was saying how your hair is absolutely _ador_-"

A small hand covered Sarah's mouth, and hissed, "I don't think he needs to know that!"

"Hermy?" Draco smirked. "What was that about my hair?"

"How it looks like someone poured a bucket of grease over it, ferret boy," she snapped at him. The curly-haired Gryffindor then took a huge swig of firewhiskey and, hand still over Sarah's mouth, added exasperatedly, "Who am I kidding? Your hair is absolutely adorable."

"You've been drinking," he pointed out, voice full of disgust.

"Did you figure that out on your own?" she snarled at him.

"Obviously." He reached for a bottle that had been left on a nearby table and took a giant gulp. The liquid burned his throat like molten metal the whole way down; however, experience informed him that the sensation would numb about halfway through his second bottle.

"Go jump off a cliff, Prince Pureblood," said Hermione viciously. She too was still drinking firewhiskey and was getting visibly drunker every second.

"Only if you jump with me, Mudblood," sneered Draco.

"Okay, let's go," she agreed, catching him by surprise.

"Go where?" he asked.

"Off a cliff," Hermione was grinning madly now; a more sober Malfoy might have asked how much she had drunk.

However, he had downed a surprising amount of alcohol in the short time he had been speaking with her, and said only, "Okay."

Keeping the dusty bottle firmly in hand, she reached for Draco's arm and dragged him out of the noisy room. Out in the stone hallway, she asked him, "Where do we find a cliff in this bloody school?"

Channeling the spirit of Blaise, he answered, "In the Slytherin common room."

Once there, the unlikely pair was hard-off finding a cliff. Draco did, however, find a bed. A very inviting looking bed.

"Cliff," he said softly.

"That's a bed, ferret," Hermione pointed out, wobbling slightly.

**And that's where I end this chapter. The reason for this being that I need to decide whether or not to write a sex scene and up the rating or just show the morning after and keep it 'T'. **

**Oh, and the drunken behavior of Gina is largely based off how my real friend Gina acts when sober.**

**Review?**


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